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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673679">Hands Off</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlelupin/pseuds/Doodlelupin'>Doodlelupin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, LMAO, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Touch-Averse Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, comforting tea, i dont know how to tag this, i guess?, implied jmart, kidnapping mention?, sort of lmao, tense situation, tim goes too far</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:20:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlelupin/pseuds/Doodlelupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon's looking...rough. It's been a long year. He's exhausted and stressed-and don't get him started on the whole...employee situation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hands Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this takes place in like...season 3? please ignore canon inconsistencies i forget what happens the timeline aint real (i think its mostly accurate tho)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon stormed into the office an hour late, hair flying in every direction, shirt crumpled and only half tucked in, jacket hanging off his shoulder and a strong scowl clouding his face. He looked a mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, you alright?” Tim asked with perhaps less tact than he could’ve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Overslept.” Jon growled as he marched towards his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you overslept, you probably needed the extra time.” Martin offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I needed it, Martin. That doesn’t mean I deserved it.” Jon spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, okay. I’m sorry you don’t feel great, Jon. I’ll bring you some tea in a few.” Martin said. He didn’t sound upset, just irritated. Jon closed the door behind him louder than he’d intended. He leaned against it and sighed, running his hands through his hair. He’d fucked up. He shouldn’t have snapped at Martin like that. At least it was Martin, Jon knew he was pretty much already forgiven. That almost made it worse. He didn’t deserve forgiveness either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to revive himself. He was absolutely exhausted, even with the extra sleep. His insomnia was getting ridiculous, especially given how tired he was. You’d think it’d make falling asleep easier, not harder. It would probably be easier if he wanted to sleep. As tired as he was, he dreaded it. Not only did he have strange nightmares far too often to be comfortable sleeping, but if he were to fall asleep, that would mean he would wake up. If he woke up, he would have to get back to… this. To going through statement after statement, trudging through this disaster that they called an “Archive”, searching for answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. To this horrible exhaustion that seeped into his bones. To Tim who hated him for good reason and Martin who would hate him if he had any self-respect. To...this. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. How many times had he almost been killed already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough self pity, I’ve got work to do.” He muttered, pushing off the door. He dropped his bag beside the desk and grabbed a box off the floor, setting it on the desk with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He pulled his laptop out of his bag and opened it up. He wasn’t sure he needed it anymore. These days he just kind of...</span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> which statements were the real ones. He didn’t like it though. It made him feel...uncomfortable. He tried to avoid paying attention to it. Pretend he was just a normal archivist who didn’t have weird powers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled one of the files out of the box. He clicked “Record” and began reading out the statement, pacing back and forth. The quality of the recording didn’t matter. He didn’t even bother finishing it. Once he got through the first paragraph without a problem he had enough confirmation that this was a fake statement and set it back on the desk, pulling the next statement out of the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued on like this for half an hour before he was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He paused the recording and set the statement down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” He asked, the exhaustion creeping into his voice. Martin opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brought you some tea,” Martin held up the mug as proof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Martin.” Jon breathed, a tired smile sneaking onto his face. He was glad Martin didn’t question why he was standing in front of his desk instead of sitting behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem.” Martin nodded, placing the mug on the desk. “Are you-” He paused for a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” He repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright? I mean, I know you’re irritated you overslept but you just seem...tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m...I’m fine. Thank you, though.” Jon was worried he was making it exceptionally obvious that he was not, in fact, fine. How often did he talk to Martin like this? He was being far too gentle. Or rather, he was usually far too harsh. Why was he so rude to Martin?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin seemed to notice this too. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. If you need anything I’ll be at my desk. Obviously.” He laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded, his smile remaining even after Martin pulled the door closed behind him. Jon sat down behind his desk and pulled his laptop round to face him. He picked up the statement and got back to work. It was much easier now that he wasn’t panicking so much. He didn’t realize how comforting Martin’s mere presence could be. The simple action of bringing him tea made him feel so much better. He sipped it as he worked. It was perfect, as always.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A few hours later, Jon stepped out of his office to fill his empty cup. Martin was pulling on his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi! I was just headed out for lunch. Did you want to join me?” He asked. He seemed a little nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ve got a lot to do. Have fun.” Jon said, waving as he stepped into the break room. He turned on the kettle and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as he waited. He probably should’ve joined Martin, but he couldn’t really afford to take a break right now. He knew-he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>-that the next real statement was coming up. Plus he had started an hour late. He’d deal with food later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s it goin’, boss?” Tim asked as he sauntered into the room. Jon suppressed a groan. He wasn’t really in the mood for company right now. Well, not...Tim’s. Honestly, he missed the relationship they used to have when they both worked in research. So much had happened since then, so many wedges shoved between them...It just hurt too much at this point. And besides that, he always got far too close. Jon hadn’t minded too much at first but after all he’d been through he was not even remotely comfortable with people touching him anymore. Martin seemed to have picked up on it but Tim? Not so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s...going.” Jon sighed. He crossed his arms tighter around himself, trying to will Tim not to touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That rough, huh?” Tim chuckled. “Look, boss,” Tim threw his arm around Jon’s shoulder. Jon froze. He closed his eyes tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you need help with work you can just ask, you know that right? It’s literally our job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Jon forced himself to speak. He couldn’t breathe. He was fine. He could deal with it. Tim wouldn’t hurt him. He was fine. His lungs felt like they’d collapsed. His stomach had dropped through the floor. He was anything but fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? That’s all you’ve got?” Tim laughed. He looked down at Jon. “You feeling okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m….I’m...I-” Jon stammered. He couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, hey,” Tim said soothingly, even if he couldn't keep the tone of concern out of his voice. He took Jon by the shoulders. “Breathe, Jon…” He said gently, watching Jon’s face. Jon’s eyes opened in panic. His back was to the counter and Tim was now standing in front of him with a hand on either arm. He was trapped. Trapped. He gasped for breath, trying to push himself backwards away from Tim. There was nowhere for him to go. He squeezed his arms tighter around himself, shaking his head. He didn’t know what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do? How can I help?” Tim asked desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“L-L-”Jon could barely force the words out. “Let g-go,” He gasped. Tim raised his hands immediately, taking a step back to give him room. Jon still couldn’t breathe but he felt like he at least had the room to try now. He took a few steps away from Tim, trying to force his breathing to slow. Tim curled his arms around himself, looking completely lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, Jon. Breathe. In...out…”Tim demonstrated. Jon squeezed his eyes shut tight, backing into the wall. He tried to copy Tim’s breathing. “In….Out….” Tim kept up. He was safe. There was no one behind him, just the wall. The only one here was Tim. Tim had listened. Tim wouldn’t hurt him. He was safe. He was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With considerable effort he managed to slow his breathing back down to normal. He kept his eyes shut. He hadn’t thought it was possible to feel this embarrassed. Tim must think he was crazy. He could feel his face flushing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you...Are you okay?” Tim asked hesitantly. Jon nodded, pursing his lips. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Tim looked like he was physically holding himself back from wrapping Jon in a hug. Jon was glad he was showing some self-restraint. Jon rubbed his arms anxiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just have a panic attack?” Tim asked softly. Jon hesitated. He opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. He just nodded. “God, Jon…” Tim muttered under his breath. “Was it because I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Jon blurted out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, Jon- I’m so sorry.” Tim covered his mouth with a hand. Jon didn’t want to have to console him about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not. I shouldn’t have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have, but you did. Just-don’t do it again.” He was blurting out the words before he could stop himself. Tim nodded. They stood in silence for a moment, Tim watching Jon nervously, Jon looking anywhere other than at Tim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask...why?” Tim said cautiously. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to-” He added hurriedly. Jon had lost all of that energy he’d had a moment ago. He felt exhausted once more, but this time it was somehow even more profound. He felt like his brain was slipping behind a fog. He couldn’t think properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I- I-” Jon took a shuddering breath. It felt like he was shuffling alphabet tiles with his eyes closed. His mind was entirely blank from panic. He couldn't think, much less express something he’d been pushing down for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have been placed in situation after situation,” Jon started slowly. “Where I have been shown again and again that I have no say in what happens to me or my body, and that touch….touch hurts. Touch means terror and pain and- and- and there’s no control I- I can't do anything to stop that.” His hands mindlessly ghosted over his scars as he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no say in it. I just have to...let it happen. I- I couldn’t fight back, half of the times my hands were literally tied behind my back- I just- I want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>scream</span>
  </em>
  <span> sometimes but there’s just- how do you say everything? Why should I have to?” It was obvious he’d been bottling this up for a long time. Tim made no move to answer, giving him space to keep talking. Jon was grateful for that, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m obviously visibly uncomfortable every time and yet everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeps pushing it</span>
  </em>
  <span> and- I- you-” Jon stammered. Talking about himself was one thing but talking specifically about Tim’s actions made him feel ill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- I-” He took another deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly uttered the words he’d been trying to say. “You are someone I care about. You frame yourself as someone who cares about me. I want to believe that. I do. At the same time…” He opened his eyes hesitantly, unsure of whether he should continue or not. Tim looked like he was dreading it, but made no effort to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ignore...this. You can see me flinch, I’m sure you can hear me struggling to breathe after you- after a hug. I- I don’t understand why you have to- why we have to… I know it’s not normal. I know people are supposed to touch. I know it’s weird for you to not be allowed to and I know it's a valid trauma response for me to be so scared of it but- I don't feel like I should have to divulge all of this to ask for something so simple as </span>
  <em>
    <span>not touching me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I don’t want- I...I want to phrase this right hang on.” Jon paused. It was getting a little easier to speak but his mind was still empty. “I- don't want you to apologize and...pity me. I don’t need pity. I just… I just want some respect? I want you to trust that I know what I need for myself without me having to explain why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at Tim. Tim nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. He was processing the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, there’s no way for you to respond to that.” Jon winced. “I don’t know what I want you to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”Tim started. He paused to think out what he wanted to say “I am so sorry...."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know." Jon nodded, cutting him off. He accepted Tim's apology, but he couldn't just say ‘it's okay’. It wasn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't, by the way. Pity you." Tim said. "I have never once in my life seen you as a person who needed pity. I don't know if you realize how strong you are." Jon scoffed. "I'm serious. You've been through...I guess i didn't realize how much you're dealing with. And yeah, you've done some fucked up things-I mean Christ you </span>
  <em>
    <span>stalked </span>
  </em>
  <span>me-but who hasn't done some fucked up things? You’re human. That’s how it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon hadn’t realized how much he’d felt like his humanity was slipping away. He wasn’t sure Tim understood how much his last sentiment meant to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Thank you." He said softly. Tim replied with a small smile. They didn't say anything more. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Jon returned to his office.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dammit." He muttered once he sat down and realized he'd forgotten to make tea with all of...that happening. He didn't want to leave his office again so he got back to work instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later the door opened. Tim wordlessly set a steaming mug of tea on his desk and left the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Jon felt a smile creep onto his face. He took a sip. Tim always made tea a bit too sweet but Jon didn’t mind. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i wrote this whole thing between the hours of like 10pm and 4am the same night plz forgive anything weird lmao</p></blockquote></div></div>
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